Our Dark Secret
by SiuanSedai
Summary: Eomer doesn't think anyone would see their love as a beautiful thing. Rated T only because of incest  absolutely nothing graphic.


I wrote this for ficvariations on livejournal - the June theme is dark/light. Enjoy )

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Her forehead was cold, clammy; Eomer shuddered inwardly every time he rested his hand atop the deathly white skin, recognising the almost tangible taint of death. She was not yet dead, he told himself. Yet, a murmur at the back of his mind whispered hauntingly. She had survived an encounter with a Nazgul. No, more than that: she had defeated the Witch-King of Angmar, the one who had shattered Gandalf the White's staff with one single blast of evil. But that evil, the one that she had defeated so heroically, was still creeping through her veins in its last vestige of strength, shadowing and stalking in the same way that a predator would hunt its prey. Eomer hoped it wouldn't close in for the kill. He hoped Aragorn could heal her in time.

He wished she had a different disease. Anything but this, anything that could be treated by someone other than Isildur's heir. Not that Eowyn didn't deserve the best treatment available, but Eomer didn't want the first face she saw when she awoke to be the man she'd fawned over until he finally let her down. Eomer was furious with Aragorn for letting Eowyn's heart dangle in front of him for so long. And, although he'd never admit it to anyone because he knew it was wrong and the king of Rohan couldn't be publicly denounced as a pervert, he was jealous. Jealous of the man who'd captured Eowyn's interest, even though brother and sister had long ago sworn that when one of them fell in love, there would be no hard feelings and they would freely give each other to someone else. Jealous of the man who could have taken the thing Eomer wanted, needed most in the whole world: Eowyn's heart.

Eomer knew it was wrong to feel that way. It was disgusting and unnatural and just plain wrong for a brother to lust after his sister, but he couldn't help it. If he'd ever had any indication that Eowyn didn't love him in the exact same way, he would never have acted on his feelings. But as the siblings had become older, they'd slipped into a comfortable routine of expressed love. It had started off with kisses. Chaste kisses on the lips instead of the cheek turned into real kisses, which eventually grew into more. They'd never made love, though – Eomer had insisted that she would be pure when she found a man to love and marry. Eowyn had always replied that she didn't ever want to marry, because then they wouldn't be free to love each other. But Eomer had stood firm and restrained himself and her, because he didn't want her to ever regret anything that happened between them.

She wasn't wearing the pendant he'd made for her when they were small children. Since the day he'd given her the clumsily made gift hung on a leather shoestring, it had hung around her neck, first down to her stomach and as she grew, it only reached down to lie next to her heart. Maybe it had fallen off in the heat of battle, but Eomer hoped she'd left it safe in Meduseld. The pale skin above the neckline of her dress looked strangely bare without the leather cord decorating it.

"She should wake soon," Aragorn said, startling Eomer out of his reverie.

"How soon?" he asked urgently.

"I cannot tell for certain, but perhaps a couple of hours," the older man predicted. Eomer exhaled slowly in relief. She was going to wake up!

When Eowyn did wake up, her eyes fluttered open slowly, dazedly. Eomer knew that confused look from years of battles. It meant 'but… didn't I die?' Her eyes drifted around the room searching for him; he moved to kneel by her side and took her hand in his. She had lost the frozen feel of death, and Eomer felt tears come to his eyes. He blinked them back, smiling down at her.

"Are you angry?" Eowyn asked. Eomer grinned inwardly. He knew well that if he said yes, she would simply point out that it was tough.

"No I'm not, my dear sister," he replied, the endearment heartfelt. He wished they were in a private room so that he could kiss her lips to express how much he cared that she was alive, but they were not alone. The late Steward's son – now the Steward, Eomer supposed – lay half-awake, half-dreaming. Eomer knew he couldn't risk the man finding out their secret. The love between he and Eowyn was pure, good and light, but to others it would appear a dark and dirty affair. And Eomer didn't want that to happen. He didn't want others to degrade their love.


End file.
